Padfoot Returns
by Alison M
Summary: *OotP Spoiler* A story about Sirius's return from beyond the Veil, and about the final battle against Voldemort. Switches between Harry's Fifth and Seventh year, please Read and Review.
1. Awakening

*Disclaimer* I am not making any money from this. All characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling, I am simply borrowing them. I am not J.K. Rowling - though I wish I was - (feel free to ignore my bad stab at humour.) Anyway, on with the story.  
  
This is basically a story about Sirius's return from the land through which the veil took him to. Sorry if it's kind of (very) confusing. The first chapter switches between Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts, and the time when Sirius fell through the Veil, in Harry's fifth year. So, please tell me if you think I should continue or not, and please review. Thanks. Anyway, on with the story.  
  
Padfoot Returns  
  
Chapter One - Awakening  
  
A flash of red light. His body went hurtling backwards. Falling.falling. His face still held the laughter which had creased its edges simply moments before, but his eyes looked stunned. His body plunged backwards into the empty air, into nothingness. Then, he plunged, as if in slow motion through the veil behind him. His last look was for Harry, then he disappeared. He was gone.  
  
* * *  
  
It was almost two years since the day Sirius had plunged through the veil in the Department of Mysteries, never to return. Harry still thought about him, almost constantly. His grief still ate at his insides, consuming him. A rage beyond imagination filled him when he thought of Bellatrix's sunken face, her mocking voice. The pain of his loss was unbearable, yet that was exactly what Harry had to do.  
  
Bear it.  
  
Voldemort would soon try to take over. Harry knew it; in his heart he had always known it. His last year at Hogwarts would be the time when Voldemort would truly rise, when they would all have to fight. He may never survive his last year at Hogwarts. For was that not what the prophecy had said, he thought shrewdly. That he cannot live while I remain alive. That one of us must vanquish the other.  
  
Harry felt like giving up. He would give anything to follow Sirius into death's welcoming hands, to let Voldemort kill him. He would sell his soul just to join the man who had been more like a father to him than any other man in the world, for he knew Sirius better than he knew his own parents. Why had life dealt him such a cruel hand? If only he could just join him.  
  
No, a voice inside him told him, the voice of reason, you cannot die. Life is cold, and its cruel. But you have to be brave, live. You must fight Voldemort. You must save the world!  
  
What had the world ever done for him, though? It had allowed his parents to be killed before he was two years old, which had forced him to live at his aunt and uncle's, where he was treated like something they had just trodden on. Then, it had ripped away from him the only person he knew as a father. Did the world deserve to be saved?  
  
The sunshine filtered around Harry, as he sat beneath the tree which he had seen his father sit under two years ago, but the sun brought no comfort to him. It did not melt the unyielding shards of ice, which had filled him since that fateful day two years ago. For that was what grief did. It numbed your body, consumed all rational thought, burned inside you like both fire and ice.  
  
But think of the people that love you, Harry, the voice continued stubbornly. Think of Ron, and Hermione, Lupin, and the rest of the Weasleys. Can you allow them to die simply because you do not want to follow the path which destiny has so clearly laid out for you?  
  
And, Harry supposed, it was right. He could not, would never let those people die. He loved them, would do anything for them. While there was still breath in his body he would not let Lord Voldemort win. He would protect them. He would fight. He would live. For it was his destiny.  
  
* * *  
  
Sirius stood up, surveyed the world around him, a look of shock and horror etched across his handsome features. As if pulled by some invisible force, he reached his finger to his wrist. There he felt the slow, steady beat of his pulse. He was definitely alive.  
  
He had expected the veil to take him to the place after life. He had expected to die, and to be taken to the nothingness which death could entail. But that had not happened. He felt alive. He felt the blood pumping through his veins, could feel the thirst for oxygen which every human being felt. Then where was he.  
  
He cast a look at the land about him. All he saw was greyness all around him. Grey, stone covered ground stretching for miles upon miles, and a grey sky over head, which looked as though it had been scorched. This place certainly looked as if it could house the dead. Then why had he been brought here, or more importantly, why had he survived the journey which he supposed had been intended to be his last?  
  
Waves of hopelessness and despair washed over him. The Blacks were by no means quitters, but in this forsaken, desolate land, quitting seemed to be the easy option. But Sirius would not quit, he would not quit while he was still alive, and while Harry was still alive. He would do anything to get back to him.  
  
At the thought of Harry an emotion of fatherly love surged up inside him. Harry. He knew he had to get out for him, especially for him. He knew in the depths of his very soul that Harry would need him, that the Order would need him, in the final resistance against Voldemort. Sirius again felt despair wash over him. He had promised James, and himself, that he would love and care for Harry as if he were his own child. And now he had left him alone, in a world which was falling around him in pieces. He had left Harry alone in a world where he was likely to witness his friends being picked off one by one, tortured and killed in front of his very eyes. He had left Harry alone in a world filled with misery, filled with despair, and in a world which was losing all hope for survival.  
  
By God, he would get out of here. He would get out of this place, he would help. Or he would die trying.  
  
* * *  
  
"What are you saying Dumbledore?" Alastor Moody barked at the wizard standing at the front of the room.  
  
Remus Lupin sat with his head in his hands, a grim expression showing on his face.  
  
"We can't tell Harry this, we can't let him hope Dumbledore, you know that? Don't you?" He said tiredly, though there was some other emotion expressed in it, something which sounded almost like hope.  
  
"Yes, Remus, I am perfectly aware that Harry must not find out about this. It could end in his destruction. But I'm afraid that we cannot help Sirius, we cannot reach him. It is all up to himself. He must reach us alone." Dumbledore told the Order.  
  
They all looked up at the headmaster, expressions of hope dawning on their faces.  
  
"You see," Dumbledore continued, "None of us know exactly what the Veil does, where it takes those who fall through it. The only thing which I am sure of is that it does not kill its victims instantaneously. I am trying to find out more about the Veil, though you are aware we cannot waste valuable effort and time on it. It is really all up to Sirius. It may take him months to reach us, it may take him years. In fact he may never reach us, but there is a glimmer of hope that he will. I will not allow anyone to go through that veil, though. We do not know if anyone could ever come back." He finished. The age was beginning to show on the old man's face, and in his voice and eyes. All three seemed tired, and weary of the circumstances which he found himself in.  
  
"But you're saying there's a chance, that Sirius may live?" Tonks asked, barely concealing the excitement and hope in her voice.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore replied, "There is a chance that Sirius will live through this a chance that we may see him again!" Dumbledore told her, hope emanating from his own voice. It gave the others strength to believe.  
  
Well, what do you think? Kinda bad ending, I know. Please read and review anyway. Should I continue? 


	2. A Scar and a Discovery

OK, chapter two is up. Thanks everyone for your reviews. I'm glad to see that everyone else wants Sirius back. So, please read on.  
  
Chapter 2 - A Scar and a Discovery  
  
Blood. Blood was being shed. People were dying, dying at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Around him people were being murdered, and for what? What could anyone say to justify the mindless slaughter which had surrounded them since Lord Voldemort's return?  
  
Nothing.  
  
Harry read the headline of the Daily Prophet.  
  
"Two More Muggles Dead at Hands of Death Eater," it screamed at him from across the milk jugs and sugar bowls.  
  
Yet, sitting here, in Hogwarts' Great Hall, Harry felt estranged from what was going on outside the strong, stone walls. The atmosphere was tense. An air of forboding rang through the corridors, which had lost their warmth, and chatter was diluted all over the hall, as those eating their breakfast read of the horrifying new display of terror which a Death Eater had demonstrated. Any laughter in the school now seemed unnatural, and rang out shrilly in the uneasy silence. Yet this all seemed distant, and unreal to him, like he was watching his body from far away.  
  
Yes, life still went on in the school, but to Harry it had lost all its appeal. Although the full impact of what was going on had not penetrated the student body, most people seemed to be in a type of daze, not really accepting what was going on around them, continuing blindly, in the hope that if they did not think about it, the truth would go away. But it did not, and Harry was reminded of it no matter what he did.  
  
And he knew that the end was coming.  
  
The last battle was drawing ever closer. The battle which would determine the fate of the world. And it the whole responsibility of it was laid upon his shoulders. Voldemort and he must fight. They must complete what had been prophesised almost twenty years ago now. Yet he hoped the fight would come sooner rather than later. He was growing weary of the monotonous routine which life had become. He wished it would come. For he was ready for any outcome - whether he must be the winner or loser. There must only be one winner. For neither can live while the other survives.  
  
Your choice Harry, either be killed or be a killer. Not such a simple one was it?  
  
And the two year anniversary of Sirius's death was drawing close. It was in a matter of days, and then Harry would have to relive during the day the memory which haunted his dreams at night. The memory of Sirius falling, falling.  
  
Harry felt again the grief which tore apart his insides at the memory of Sirius. It almost caused him physical pain. He had to get out of here. This place was smothering him. He sat up, and ran out of the Hall, ignoring the looks he got from some of his fellow students. Hermione and Ron exchanged and worried look, and then Hurried out after him.  
  
Harry reached the grounds. A prickling pain had flared in his scar. It felt as if his head was about to rip apart. A dizzy wave came over him, from both grief and pain, and he was violently sick. He straightened up, and then leaned against a nearby tree, panting heavily, his eyes taking on a glazed look.  
  
Hermione and Ron reached him moments later.  
  
"Oh Harry, Harry, are you alright? You're not well. You should get to the hostpital wing." Hermione fussed.  
  
"I'm fine now Hermione, it's just, I felt choked in the Great Hall. It was too crowded." Harry told her. It was partly truthful.  
  
"Harry, I don't think that's the only reason." Harry looked up genuinely surprised. Ron usually didn't get involved in things like this.  
  
"Harry, was it your scar?" Hermione questioned him.  
  
"Yes." He replied. "He's coming soon. I can feel it."  
  
* * *  
  
Sirius gasped for breath. Dizziness swept over him in waves. His lungs felt choked for air. He needed something to drink, or dehydration would take over him. He found a rock, and sat down on it. A sun blazed over head, though no warmth reached the ground from its rays. He shivered, and then sunk into a kind of daze, falling deeper and deeper into a trance.  
  
He knew what he had to do. He had to kill himself. Then he would be happy. Everyone would be happy. Everyone thought he was dead anyway.  
  
"Wouldn't it be nice if you could just lie down here? Just lie down Sirius, lie down and die. Then you won't have to worry any more." A nasty little voice whispered in his here. He looked up, but saw no one.  
  
He shook his head. What the hell was this place doing to him? It was trying to get him to kill himself. Well he wouldn't give in, he'd do on, and he would fight the hold which this place took over people.  
  
Maybe I'm going mad, he thought. Hearing the voices of people who aren't actually there is never a good sign. I should have listened to Remus, I should have stayed at home. Sure, I'd be no use to anyone, but at least I would have the potential to be of use. Here I can do less than I ever could at Grimmauld Place. At least there I was doing something to help the Order, and they won't be able to spare people to look for me. They probably think I'm dead by now.  
  
He was sinking again, sinking into depression. He lay on the rock, and closing his eyes, let his sleep deprived brain rest. And so he fell into a kind of slumber.  
  
* * *  
  
He woke up, startled by the noises of voices talking close by him. With his eyes still closed he tried to listen to what they were saying.  
  
"Who do you think it is? Do you think he came through the curtain? But they haven't used that thing for years." A man's voice whispered.  
  
"He looks kind of skinny doesn't he, and his hair would need cut. But he doesn't look very dangerous. I do not think that he's a criminal." A second man said.  
  
"No definitely not. Oh my goodness, you don't think, well it couldn't possibly be . HIM?" A woman asked the other two."  
  
"The one who was prophesised? I don't know. I think that we should get him to a safe place anyway. He looks almost dehydrated, and he could do with something to eat." The first man said.  
  
And then suddenly Sirius found himself being lifted, and carried by the people who had previously been discussing his identity. He did not know for how long they had been travelling when they finally came to a stop. He opened his eyes, which had been closed since he woke up.  
  
He stared in wonder at the sight before him. Houses were clustered together, and people moved around the busy streets. It was a village.  
  
Well, what did you think? Please read and review, and tell me. Thanks. 


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